Starstrike
by SenkaBrighteye
Summary: [AU] The Hexagon did a lot of good and caused a lot of pain in its short life. These are some snapshots of the difference it made.
1. 2003 - Cam

**A/N**

Changelog:

2 Jul 14: Added chapter 1 and boring cover image.

4 Jul 14: Updated cover image.

19 Jul 14: Added chapter 2.

22 Jul 14: Made punctuation edits to chapter 2.

* * *

Cam stretched in his chair and slowly rubbed his hands together. He hadn't taken even a short break for a couple of hours; with that bug worked out, it was finally a good time. _I feel like I've been writing code for the last three weeks._ He stopped rubbing when he realized his hands were sore. _Are those blisters? Is that even possible?_ he thought. There probably wasn't any other explanation. He had designed this keyboard himself to be ergonomic with respect to the zord programming language. He couldn't imagine how his hands would feel right now if they'd given him an ordinary keyboard, but it had been like pulling teeth to get them to let him use this one. Billy had to personally approve it…

His thoughts drifted back to the debacle that was the tech orientation. It was common knowledge that Tommy Oliver had trouble operating a garage door opener, let alone leading a couple dozen employees in a science he knew nothing about. So Billy Cranston himself had been summoned, all the way from Aquitar. Never mind that Power Rangers had been in the public eye for a few years, and there were budding Ranger technology programs at a couple of universities where one could find geniuses aplenty. Gotta keep it "in the family", as it were. Not that Cam wasn't grateful for the original Ranger's time; Billy _was_ the best, and at least he'd had the sense to give the technicians both the option of a more public work space (so they wouldn't die of solitary confinement) and the option of a quiet office. It was just inefficient, calling the best of the best from another planet to teach rookies. He couldn't help but wonder if Oliver had simply jumped at an opportunity to see an old friend.

He looked down at his keyboard, the familiar Wind Ninja emblem staring up at him from the big red button. If they made him the zord operator, he would finally get to use that button. It wasn't likely. He knew from the beginning that they were watching him, that they didn't think him psychologically fit for action. _But a mind is a terrible thing to waste_-

A shrill chirp interrupted his thoughts. He had reserved that particularly obnoxious alert tone for messages from his father. He opened the message in a full window, though there was no need; as always with the sensei, the message was brief and full of hidden meaning.

kwatanabe: I chose to expel three students today.

The Hexagon's poor management processes were temporarily banished from Cam's mind. Expulsion was a big deal. It was not something the sensei liked doing. It made that person a disgrace in the ninja community, and most people never regained its respect. Ninja schools, and the Wind Ninja Academy in particular, did not have very high retention rates, but most of those drop-outs were the result of the students realizing they were not cut out for that kind of life and choosing another path. It was better to quit while ahead.

Cam thought about asking who the students were and what went wrong, but it probably wasn't anyone he knew. That was not why his father had bothered to get on the computer and send him an instant message. Rather, it pained the sensei on a personal level to let go of students with any amount of potential, no matter the reason. It also pained him to be separated from his son for so long. Their respective duties made the hour-long drive prohibitive.

Cam thought for a moment before responding.

cwatanabe: I'm sorry to hear that.

He didn't know what else to say. He cared, but he couldn't do anything about it. He said the next thing that entered his mind.

cwatanabe: Out of curiosity, have you made your choices for the morphers?

He wasn't trying to get on his father's case. The bureaucracy was doing enough of that. He just wanted to know, and a fresh study of the best students at the school might ease the sensei's mind a little. And given that they had the privilege of being the source of the next team of Rangers, it was only courteous to make the decision in a reasonable amount of time. A rumor was spreading that the Thunder Ninja Academy had already chosen three students of its own, just in case the Winds couldn't be counted upon. _Okay, maybe I am getting on his case._ As if in rebuke, the computer chirped again.

kwatanabe: Not yet. A ninja should never make an important decision without due deliberation, if at all possible.

He sighed. _The advice never stops._ It never changed its tone, either. It was the same at age twenty-five as it had been at five and fifteen.

Cam got up to get more coffee. The room was so quiet that he noticed every sound he made, despite the soft carpet. When he was done pouring, his ears readjusted until he could hear first the ticking of a wall clock, then the hum of the computer tower, and eventually the soft whine of the monitor. He held on to the mug without drinking for a while, letting it put some warmth back into his fingers. The air conditioning was just a bit too strong for his comfort.

He actually laughed a little at himself. _The best place in the world to work, and here I am complaining about the air conditioning._

He should have been happy. He had the privilege of being the only person in the Hexagon working on zord design right now, and he had total freedom in his design choices. But he had heard them talking, and heaven only knew what menial project they would put him on once the zords were finished... once they had gotten every last drop of mental exertion out of him.

"If I had wanted to lock myself in an office building to write software all day," he muttered aloud, "I would have finished college and gotten an ordinary job." The bare walls didn't have much to say in response, but they probably knew that he wanted what everyone at the Hexagon wanted: to be a real part of the Rangers' lives, to be as close to the action as he could.

Evil was no joke. Earth, with its high population of innovative, versatile, and largely ignorant sapients, was consistently targeted of megalomaniacs. A scary proportion of megalomaniacs had access to a ridiculous amount of power. They had to be opposed, and the precious few people with the strength, will and adaptability to combat them tended to be adolescents. And since his father wasn't going to give him the opportunity to _be _one of those people, he would make damn sure that they got all the help he could give. He just didn't think that constant tech development was the best use of his abilities.

He was a ninja himself; he had earned several honors in his training, though this was usually kept quiet to avoid the appearance of favoritism. He had defended his school and home from attacks. None of that would ever gain him any respect outside the ninja community. It barely gave him any from within that community, for that matter. Discipline, hard work and strong values were expected. Cam wasn't really exceptional. _But why does that make me feel useless?_ Because he was in a building full of exceptional people. It would take far more to earn _their_ respect.

What went into respect, anyhow? Try as he might, he didn't seem capable of getting any more respect from his father than he already did. He was already one of the most skilled zord technicians on the planet Earth, if not _the_ most, and yet the Hexagon was ready to drop him. What did the Hexagon value? Rangers. Only the Rangers. Its leader was the most legendary Ranger of all time. What did _he_ want?

Cam had been down this line of thought many times, but that was a new angle. What if he caught Tommy's attention? People respected those whom the Rangers respected. Not only that, but friends of Rangers were more likely to become Rangers. New threats in new places tended to result in local recruits for the new team, but replacement Rangers were not unheard-of. That was probably the way to go: do things the management liked. Suck up.

He shook his head. Something felt very wrong about a world that operated that way. Perhaps he could gain the respect of others, but he would not be able to respect himself.

_Even so…_

If he _were _to suck up, he had an obvious way to do it. Tommy had recently called for a fourth Ninja Ranger power. Green. It was Cam's responsibility, but the zords had (rightly) taken precedence. Rumors had been flying among the technicians when the announcement first came. Tommy hadn't requested for a fourth ninja student to fill the role, so it seemed clear that he wanted a Ranger similar to his original powers: an unstoppable steamroller of an extra Ranger, visually different from the main team. And Tommy was the boss, so he would get what he wanted. That was Cam's duty, wasn't it? He would create the Ranger powers as directed, at the highest quality possible.

Cam slowly sat down again, setting the coffee in its usual place. _This could actually be fun. I've always liked green. What goes with green? Silver? No, gold._ He smiled a little and cracked his knuckles. It was too easy. _You want to re-live the glory days, Oliver? That's what you'll get._

He opened a design program and got to work, sketching a human figure with a roughly triangular breastplate. The new power wouldn't be connected to the way of the ninja, but that didn't mean it couldn't be strong; multiple tech-only teams had proven that. In fact, they had raised the bar. The Titanium and Quantum Rangers were the strongest known to date. _I'll just have to do better_. He had little doubt about pulling it off. Even as he drew the new suit, his mind was buzzing with morpher and zord mechanics, bringing together scraps of ideas he'd had along the way when designing the Wind Ninja morphers, including new ways to merge disparate power sources.

Outside, beyond the vastness of the Hexagon's other wings, the summer sun was going down. The keyboard clacked merrily.


	2. 2003 - Wes

Wes was having a very pleasant walk until he tripped over a dog.

He saw it coming, as it were. Not literally, of course; he had been texting, but he had just been thinking that he should probably look where he was going. The fall seemed to happen in slow motion, giving him adequate time to land on his good arm. He was _not_ going back to the hospital, not for a while, if he could help it.

When he stopped wincing from the pain, he found himself looking up at a golden retriever, which was looking very sorrily back at him and whining softly. Someone ran over to Wes and helped him back up. He wanted to say that he didn't need help, but his balance was off because one arm was in a sling. Then the other man was brushing dirt and grass off of him, and he _really_ wanted to say that he didn't need help. Instead, he suddenly recognized the red headband and said, "Cole?"

Cole looked him in the face and broke into a huge smile. "Wes! Man, I just keep running into you! How are you?"

"Well, uh…" Wes motioned weakly with his bad arm, and then he caught sight of his phone face-down on the ground with a couple pieces of broken plastic around it. "Not too great. It's been a rough day. Would you get that for me?"

"Yeah, of course!" Cole snatched up the phone and handed it to Wes, who examined it. A corner of the chassis was busted, but the screen was miraculously intact. Eric's last message was still visible.

Taylor who?

Wes sighed and put the phone back in his pocket. Apparently they were mad at each other again, and Eric didn't want to talk about it.

"Hey!" Cole was suddenly gripping his shoulders. "I can tell you!"

"Tell me what?"

"We got our powers back!" Cole produced his Growl Phone as evidence.

Wes blinked. Cole could be unpredictable, but that was one of the last things he expected to hear. "How did that happen?"

"Princess Shayla talked to these people from the Hexagon, which is this group that helps Rangers get organized and help more people. It's kind of like-"

"I know what the Hexagon is," Wes said with a frown.

"Oh, okay. Isn't it great? It's like you told me - there are other Rangers like us, all over the world. The more of them work together, the more we can help each other fight off evil!"

Cole's grin was contagious enough to lift the frown, if not to get Wes equally excited. "Teamwork is pretty great," he admitted, unsure of what else to say.

"I know. Rangers helping Rangers, what could be better? And it's a beautiful day... Oh, but you said you were having a bad day."

"That's all right," said Wes automatically. "Why don't we keep walking? I need to get a little exercise. I've been sitting around for too long."

"Okay." Cole glanced at the dog, who got up and began to follow them. They continued down the path. "What happened to you?"

"I was in a battle... I guess you don't watch the news."

Cole reached out toward a tree and trailed his hand along the leaves as he passed. "Yeah, I don't like TV very much. But you won, right?"

Wes sighed. This would take a while to explain. "Yeah, we won. We also lost a lot."

Cole must have picked up on the gravity in Wes' voice, because he kept quiet while Wes gathered his thoughts.

"The Hexagon actually sent me and Eric undercover to investigate this monster sighting, all the way down in San Juan. That's pretty far away, a few hours' drive. We were told it would be easy: get in, gather information, get out. Almost like a vacation." Wes paused, trying to decide how much to tell. "Long story short, it wasn't easy. There were three monsters, not just one, which is always a bad sign. They were powerful magic users, and they made themselves grow. Eric and I don't have our zords anymore, so we just had to hide from them."

Cole's eyes went wide. "What did you do?"

"There was nothing _we_ could do, so we called back to the Hexagon for reinforcements. The nearest zords were in Mariner Bay, so Tommy called on Lightspeed to help out. But he didn't know that because they were made just for Mariner Bay, the Lightspeed zords don't have room for enough fuel to take them that far away and back." _In the end, it didn't matter,_ Wes thought. "The Max Solarzord was the first to get there, but it wasn't nearly powerful enough to fight all three monsters by itself. It was just tossed around, like it was nothing. Lightspeed threw all the zord power it had at them, but they only barely won." He suddenly realized that he was holding his head at an uncomfortable angle, and clenching his fists. _I don't want to tell this story, and I shouldn't have to. _The press had gotten their paws on a photo of the Max Solarzord with three of its limbs torn off; it was on every station, every front page. For a while, nobody thought Ryan would wake up again.

Wes turned his attention to Cole as they walked in silence. Cole's bright eyes were now aimed at the ground. Wes wanted to say more, to get him to walk away from the mess that was Hexagon while he had the chance, but he wasn't sure if that would really be better. It was disorganized, and its resources were spread out; more Rangers available meant potentially faster responses to emergencies. But if its leadership didn't start making better decisions soon, there was going to be a great deal of fallout. Every Ranger already associated with the Hexagon was subject to sharp criticism.

"I guess the Hexagon needs our help more than ever," said Cole.

_It must be nice to be__ him._ "Maybe so," said Wes.

"No, not 'maybe'." Cole stopped walking and took Wes by the shoulders again. "We _can't_ give up. People need our help, and the best way to help them is to work together. I know you're upset about what happened, but don't let it come between you and other Rangers."

Wes smiled a little. "Don't worry. I'll always be there to help if I can."

"Good." Cole let go of him, scratched his head and looked around. There weren't any people nearby, but he seemed concerned about the trees overhearing their conversation. "I get worried sometimes, because of those Thunder Rangers."

_Here we go._ "What are you worried about?"

Cole struggled to find words. "It's just- you know, there's a whole team of Rangers that thinks it's better to be completely separate from everybody else than... than to work with people they don't like. I don't know if they can even call themselves Rangers. On _our_ team, we didn't always like each other, but because we had to work together, we learned to respect and care for each other."

"I don't think it's as simple as them not liking people," said Wes carefully.

"And when we helped out your team that one time, Eric and Taylor didn't like each other at first. But they fought side-by-side, and they chose to treat each other well, and now they're even having a baby!" Wes froze. Cole didn't notice. "If they can do _that_, I think _any_ Rangers can work together. It makes me angry to know that there are people out there who won't try. Maybe they could have helped you out in that battle!"

Wes' mind was reeling. _Calm down. Cole can't possibly know that. Focus on the conversation at hand._ "There were reasons why the Thunder Rangers didn't join the Hexagon." It was in protest of the Hexagon's requirement that all new Rangers pass their background checks before beginning operations, to call their bluff. "They believe that no one person should have that much control."

"Not even a good person?"

_That's the question I've been asking myself every day._ "I don't know."

Wes looked up to find Cole staring into his eyes. Somehow he got the feeling that Cole was trying to read him, like he could see into his soul. He tried to look back, but it got too awkward and he looked away.

"It was good to see you, Wes." Cole wasn't smiling.

"You too."

Cole turned and walked back the way they had come. Wes continued on.


End file.
